Conversations
by AspiringEverything
Summary: (rated for strong language) What happens when the infamous Dr. Lecter and the blind CIA agent Sands meet for the first time?


**A dialogue between Agent Sheldon Jeffrey Sands from _Once Upon a Time in Mexico_ and Dr. Hannibal Lecter, from _Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal, Red Dragon, _etc..**

**Please review! Oh, and a HUGE thanks to Costa for writing Lecter. Another HUGE thanks to Arenas for the idea. **

**Enjoy!

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Sands: _(sits down in chair)_ Hi, Doc.

**Lector:** _(his back is turned, he does not turn around, deeply engrossed in a piece of classical music that is playing on the gramophone)_

**Sands:** _(sighs, sarcastic)_ Right. I'm sorry to interrupt whatever it is you're pretending to do in there, but I really don't have the time or the patience to play the "I'm a fucking psycho so I don't have to listen to you" game. I assure you, I've played it before. You'll lose.

**Lecter:** _(turning, unremarkably)_ Right to the point. Tsk tsk. That's not how the game is played.

**Sands:** _(lights a cigarette)_ Like I said, I'm not particularly interested in games. I ask you questions, you answer them. Savvy?

**Lecter:** _(he stares at him for a long moment, no expression)_ Do you know Beethoven?

**Sands:** _(incredulous) _What?

**Lecter:** This piece, it's Beethoven. Adagio From Sonata No. 8, Second Movement. It's a favorite of mine. Perhaps you've heard it?

**Sands:** _(still sarcastic)_ Yeah, sure, it's fantastic, I love the part with the... horn. I'm really sorry, but I have to tell you that I don't give a flying fuck about your musical preferences. I'm here for a reason, not to shoot the breeze.

**Lecter:** I'm sorry to hear that. It's a brilliant piece. Maybe you've heard of it by its more palatable name--"Pathetique". _(he smiles slightly)_

**Sands:** Mm. Very clever. Especially when you're living in a human-sized hamster cage, and I'm out here. Yet I'm the pathetic one. What's the matter, did they take out the wheel today? _(smirks)_

**Lecter:** Manners, now. Whatever it is you are here for, I'm quite certain it isn't to dazzle me with your prowess in analogy.

**Lecter:** And since you're still here, it begs the question, what is it that I possess that you do not?

**Sands:** Oh, just information. Otherwise, I'd say that I got the better deal in just about every other aspect.

**Lecter:** I'd rather we let things play out before we make up our minds on that, hm?

**Lecter:** You're a federal agent, are you not?

**Sands:** You got it. CIA.

**Lecter:** May I see your credentials?

**Sands**: _(sighs again, then to himself)_ I can't fucking believe this. _(aloud) _If I say yes, does that mean I'll start getting some information out of you, other than the list of your favorite tunes? You realize that withholding information from a federal agent is a serious offense, especially when that agent wouldn't think twice about tossing a bomb into that little aquarium and watching your limbs detach from your body in one violent burst.

**Lecter:** _(waits, unblinking)_

**Sands:**_ (makes an annoyed noise and presses his id holder thing up to the glass) _Satisfied?

**Lecter:** _(reads it all briefly)_ Sheldon Jeffrey Sands.

**Sands:** Agent Sands to you, actually.

**Lecter:** _(looks up smirking at this assumption)_ In case they haven't properly briefed you, Agent Sands, there are gentlemen up in Washington who take my incarceration quite seriously. Apparently they don't... approve of some of my actions. I doubt very much that withholding information from you is anywhere near the top of the list. Unless you can make an offer, I'm not sure there's anything I can do for you our your... superiors.

**Sands:** But then, I'm not one of the gentlemen from Washington. I'm a semi-psychotic bastard from the CIA that gets very cranky when he doesn't get what he wants. And trust me, you wouldn't like me cranky. _(taps on the glass)_ This glass won't protect you from everything. Namely me.

**Lecter:** You have been briefed, correct?

**Sands:** Yes, thank you.

**Lecter:** Then you know who I am.

**Sands:** Dr. Hannibal "The Cannibal" Lecter, incarcerated for quite a plethora of murders. Oh, and not only that, but you eat your victims. How charming.

**Lecter:** Then humor me, Sheldon, for it's on my mind... For your all your bravado, why is that that you have yet to remove those cheap imitation sunglasses and look me in the eye?

**Sands:** It's SANDS. As for your question, being stared at like i'm being imagined between two pieces of bread makes me feel a bit... icky. So I'd rather NOT look you in the eye, since I wouldn't want you to crave me further. Ooh. Kinky. _(smirks)_

**Lecter:** I wouldn't be too concerned if I were you. My tastes run a little more toward the exotic. As it happens, though, you may have something I can make use of.

**Sands:** _(bored)_ Do I.

**Lecter:** I'm sure you've learned by now, Agent Sands, that nothing comes free. You want something from me. So we'll do this "quid pro quo" or not at all.

**Sands:** _(highly irritated)_ Fine. But I'm getting what I came here for.

**Lecter:** First I'd like to clear something up. _(suddenly, he lunges forward, silently, stopping just short of the glass, close enough where he can breath on it, staring intently at Sands' face)_

**Lecter:** _(waits a moment, for any reaction, then smiles)_ You're blind.

**Sands:** _(quietly, dangerously)_ Excuse me?

**Lecter:** How did you lose them? Some unfortunate accident, or line of duty?

**Sands:** _(silent)_

**Lecter:** _(grinning now)_ I know you can't offer me freedom or a transfer; I've had poor luck with that in the past. What you can offer me, Agent Sands, are amusements-- something I have precious few of down here in the dungeon. So you answer my questions, I'll answer yours.

**Sands:** _(his teeth clenched, his voice is low and absolutely livid)_ Line. Of. Duty. Fuckhead.

**Lecter:** That must have been painful.

**Sands:** Not as painful as your death at my hands is going to be.

**Lecter:** _(smiles)_ All good things to those who wait.

**Lecter:** Must be hard to do the job now. Do the boys give you hard time, Sheldon? Can you hear them snickering behind your back; men who used to fear and respect you now telling jokes around the water cooler at your expense?

**Lecter:** Is it hard to get... fucked?

**Sands:** _(has regained some composure_) Oh, don't you worry. They still fear and respect me. And you'd be surprised how much losing one's sight increases certain... sensations. So, doc, I don't really have much trouble in the romance department, if that's what you're asking. _(pauses)_ It must be hard on a person's sex life to live in a glass box, though. How's that going for ya? _(smirks)_

**Lecter:** _(smirking)_ Alas, the only female interaction they see fit to allow me here is with Dr. Chilton, and I'm afraid even he hardly qualifies, try though he does.

**Sands:** I'm quite aware of how enthralling I am-- I get that a lot--but I'd rather have you answer some of my questions now. We can talk about how wonderful and interesting I am later.

**Lecter:** Patience, Sheldon, patience. Your brusqueness may work on the outside, with your _(smirks)_ multitude of female companions, but I've got all the time in the world. So let's talk about them, shall we? Tell me about your last.

**Sands:** I get that you're bored in here. If I lived in a fish tank, I would be too... but I didn't come here to be your psychological fuck buddy.

**Lecter:** Then what did you come here for, Agent Sands? It must be important, if the CIA sent their most invaluable agent all the way over to my neck of the woods for a chat.

**Sands:** Like I said when I first got here, I just want information. Not a therapy session. You giving me answers, me leaving, then possibly getting something to eat... you get the idea. And you should be proud of yourself. No one else was willing to talk to you. I wonder if it's because you're an arrogant prick who doesn't seem to understand his place in life.

**Lecter:** Or maybe you just don't see things quite as clearly as you used to, Agent Sands. It strikes me as odd that the CIA would put a capable agent like yourself on a rather unprestigious job like this. Has it occurred to you that perhaps this is just their way of rewarding all your hard work in the past by... putting you out to pasture?

**Sands:** _(silent for a moment) _

**Sands:** _(starts gathering his stuff to leave_) As fun as this has been, Doc... I'm afraid my patience has run out. _(stops and seems to stare at Lecter)_

**Sands:** The thing is, Doctor Lecter, is that you can sit there, spouting psychoanalyses until the day you die. Which you will, in there. But let's get one thing straight. Neither you, nor the CIA, nor the bastards that ripped my eyes out of my fucking skull know who I am, or what I'm capable of. But hey. I hope you enjoy your stay.

**Lecter:** Good afternoon, Agent Sands. _(as he is leaving)_ One of these days, we really ought to do lunch.

**Sands:** _(over his shoulder)_ Over my dead fucking body, Doc.

**Lecter:** _(smiling, under his breath)_ Good to know we're on the same page.


End file.
